Be loved for real
by Sano
Summary: Kurt Hummel is still a virgin, and turning 30. On a whim, he hires a prostitute for his birthday, not knowing that his rash decision might change his life forever. Sam/Kurt, R. CHAPTER 2 UP!
1. Chapter 1

**Title: Be loved for real**

**Written by:** Sano

**Pairings:** Sam/Kurt

**Rating:** R (to be safe)

**Author's note:** This is based on a novel that I've read multiple times now, and I just can't help but make a kum interpretation.

**Summary:** Kurt Hummel is still a virgin, and turning 30. On a whim, he hires a prostitute for his birthday, not knowing that his rash decision might change his life forever.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

Will Schuester perused the young man in front of him, blessed with porcelain skin and a grace that was innate even during immobility, someone as famous and well, regal in demeanor, was a rare visitor in his establishment.

"Do you have any preferences, Mr. Hummel?" He leaned back on the leather-upholstered desk chair as he waited for the young man to answer.

The man in question flushed crimson, "A-ah... well... J-just the usual sort, I guess." Then he added, "Please call me Kurt."

"Very well, Kurt," Will smiled gently, "Redhead, blonde? Muscular or lithe? Young or someone who looks experienced?" A pen poised over a business pad, he waited for the young man's answer. "There's not a 'usual sort' here."

If it was possible, Kurt's blush deepened and Will was struck with how immensely he liked this customer. And he rarely liked the customers that came to his humble abode.

'The Mansion' is part of a chain of upscale brothels that were nestled in Brooklyn, although not the largest, but the brothel boasted of its elite clientele and exclusivity, and Will ran his small empire with a carefree style that made most of his employees respect him.

And since his employees consisted of people that sold their bodies for profit, respect for oneself, or moreover, respect for another person is almost miraculous.

Bringing his attention back to Kurt, he started writing as the young man spoke, his tone hesitant. "I would like someone who is... Affable and... medium-built, a bit taller than me, but not towering."

"Kinda like a jock type." Slowly the blush faded, as if they were talking about how they took their coffee, rather than purchasing someone's company for the night. "And discretion. If word got out, I can't even imagine what the magazines will say." Kurt suddenly imagined a tabloid headline reading, 'Kurt Hummel: Desperate and lonely, hires a hooker.' He shuddered inwardly at the thought.

If someone had asked him a year ago whether he'd been to a brothel, he'd throw out some pithy comment how purchasing someone's company was ridiculous and a waste of money.

Not that he was lacking in companionship. He'd dated Blaine Anderson, lead singer of the Warblers, for a solid two years. The lead Warbler treated him with his dapper charm and oh so _delicately. _

It was wonderful for the first three months, but when they were making out while watching Chicago on the DVR with Catherine Zeta Jones killing it with 'Cell Block Tango' and Kurt had a raging hard on, you just don't end the interlude with a kiss on the forehead and cuddle until the movie ended.

He didn't even know what made him stuck out with it for so long, maybe because Blaine was his first boyfriend, or maybe because he thought that he would never find anyone that perfect again. So he'd been pretty content with making out, cold showers with silent groans in the shower as he got off and maybe someday, he'd be strong enough to demand Blaine to fuck him.

That was until he caught Blaine screwing the brains of the cute manager of the Gap they went to a few weeks back. He'd dropped the coffee and bagels he'd picked up on the way to Blaine's apartment for a surprise visit on the pristine carpet, grabbed the Tony award that he'd won the year before and threw it out the window.

Blaine didn't even bother chasing him. And he'd smashed the trophy again with his boot when he saw it again on the street.

He hadn't had a date since then.

"I think that can be arranged. We cater to some of the most famous celebrities and politicians in New York, some of them married." Will answered nonchalantly and Kurt suddenly burned to ask who some of those clients were. It was unlikely that the owner would tell him, but he loved gossip of any form and the notorious man in front of him probably knew some dirt on people who had squeaky-clean reputations.

"Anything else?"

"Cleanliness." Kurt added in haste, "I-I would insist on cleanliness."

Chuckling, Will braced his forearms on the oak wood desk. "You have nothing to worry about, 'The Mansion' employees get routine check ups, and I assure you that they're all taken care of," Will smoothed down his tie with one hand, "We wouldn't be a success if my employees didn't take precautions."

"I'm sorry. I didn't, I mean, I never meant to imply..." Kurt felt his usual icy confidence whither in embarrassment, thinking he'd insulted the notorious male procurer.

"That's quite alright." Will countered easily. "Now, if you would like to step into the other room, you can choo-"

"N-no, thank you. I trust your judgment. Just send someone next Saturday around 10, on the night before my birthday." The blush was back in full force, and Kurt was overtaken with excitement, tempered with a heavy dose of shame that he pushed aside as the older man studied him again.

After a moment, he seemed to have made a decision. "Alright," He dropped the pen onto the table in finality and leaned back in his chair. "Are you a virgin, Kurt?"

A glimmer of annoyance appeared in the blue eyes as the younger man replied, "Why do you wish to know?"

Feeling amused at the fierce tone, Will said, "If you are to trust my judgment, I would like to know the particulars of your situation." He gestured to their lavish surroundings, "My patrons come back not just for sex. They come back because my employees treat our customers to the illusion that sex is a connection of two souls, rather than their bodies." His eyes twinkled mischievously as he added, "Which leaves our patrons satisfied and begging for more. So, if this is your first time, I would like to make it a night that you will never, ever forget."

Kurt contemplated how to answer, after thinking of any comments that wouldn't make him feel such a loser, one look at the other's face told him that honesty wasn't such a bad thing, and so he nodded slowly.

"Alright, Kurt. Thank you, Saturday night it is."

He didn't know whether to be offended or impressed, so he just took out his checkbook, excitement coupled with the feeling that he was making the biggest mistake of his life.

* * *

><p>"Did someone see you? I didn't even know that you would just appear so unexpectedly!" Kurt's heart was racing as he practically yanked the handsome man inside his apartment, thinking that someone might've seen him, a neighbor or God help him, the paparazzi.<p>

Now that the door was closed, Kurt got a chance to look at his visitor and his heart raced for an altogether different reason.

The man in front of him looked so fresh and likeable. The loose tailor of his clothes did little to hide the wealth of muscles and a wide set of lips that were made for kissing. The fried blond hair was something that Kurt itched to take some conditioner to, but the air of raw magnetism the man exuded made his knees weak.

"You're Kurt Hummel, right? The fashion designer?" His voice was low, with traces of a southern accent that Kurt found endearing.

He was so caught up in his perusal that it took him a full minute before he could answer, "Yes, I am. And your name i- no! Don't tell me." He turned to a side-table where he'd placed a few dollars, carefully folded in a neat line.

"I'm sorry, but I was just about to call Mr. Schuester that your services will not be needed tonight." There was a mirror on the wall and Kurt can see the confusion etched onto the other man's face. Clearly, he was a bit too slow so prostitution was the only way to earn money.

It was evident how many people would pay good money to get on a body like that.

"Wait, Will sai-"

"I understand that Mr. Schuester has explained what should happen tonight, but I've had time to contemplate, and it really doesn't matter that I spend my birthday alone. And really, who cares? I know of a number of people who may seem depressed at the thought of turning 30. Why, even Rachel draped all their mirrors with black cloth on her 30th birthday. While my stepbrother was sympathetic, he found it infinitely amusing. Anyway, I just-"

The man held up his large hands, "Wait! Stop talking." Kurt promptly stopped his litany and stared incredulously at him. There were a few people who dared to tell him to shut up, mainly, his family and a few of his closest friends.

Finn would just let him talk but when it was too much, he would just dump his two year-old daughter in his arms and walk away, Kurt would be too distracted with controlling the hyper-active Isabelle. And the employees in his clothing store would cower in fear and impertinent interns would stammer apologies.

He quirked an eyebrow at his visitor, feeling his annoyance rising to the surface.

"I'm sorry. It's just, you talk so fast and I can barely follow what you were saying." He grinned, the flash of white teeth disarming Kurt for a moment. "It confused my head for a little while." He walked farther into the apartment and into the living room. Kurt didn't fail to notice his eyes shoot to the half-empty bottle of wine on the coffee table, with a box of Godiva chocolates next to it.

"So, I gather that you're turning 30?" He asked.

Kurt crossed his arms over his chest, "Yes. And although I regret the impulsiveness which led me to tonight's debacle, I will call Mr. Schuester to cancel your services. You may keep the payment, and I'll even pay for a cab."

"Tell me, Kurt… what services were actually purchased?"

Now, Kurt was the one who was confused, "I would think that a man of your profession would know what I'm talking about."

The other man studied him for a moment, and Kurt felt as if he was exposed, scars of hurt and disappointment evident on his skin. "We don't need to talk about anything, Mr… no, don't tell me your name. I'll show you out."

"Oh, no. If you did talk to Will, and he sent me, I can hardly leave you alone on your birthday, especially if I'm your present." He unbuttoned his coat and sat down on the coach, settling in as if he intended to stay there the whole night. "And my name is Sam."

The brunette bristled at the cavalier way the other man acted and his voice dripped of sarcasm as he spoke, "Well, Sam. By all means stay! You wouldn't mind if I call the police, do you?"

He laughed, the sound deep and velvety, and a chill chased down the length of Kurt's spine. "I don't think you will. Any call to the police would lead to the media banging on your door, and I know you wouldn't want them to know what you've been up to… would you, Kurt?"

Sam was so incredibly arrogant and so gorgeous that Kurt felt a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He sat down the other end of the couch and grabbed his glass of wine, taking a bracing swallow.

He was surprised to see that Sam had inched his way over to his side when he lowered the wine glass. The scent of regular old spice and shaving cream lingered in his nose and Kurt was swamped with a feeling of lust so strong that he almost grabbed the other man.

"Seeing that you're not likely to leave, fine, you can stay, but only for a few minutes. Deal?"

"Deal." Sam leaned back on his seat and fixed his eyes on him. "Since I only have a few minutes, would you mind if I asked you a question?"

Kurt rolled his eyes, "One."

The blond smiled at him innocently, "Thanks. And since it's only one question, you need to answer honestly."

"… Fine."

"Why did you decide to hire a prostitute for your birthday?" Kurt choked on his sip of wine and Sam grabbed the glass from him and helpfully thumped his back as he gasped.

"I can't answer that!" Kurt protested.

"You said one question."

"I thought you were going to ask about my life, not about that!"

"It's a matte-"

"No!"

"You're a coward then." Sam drank from Kurt's wine glass, and the brunette was again mesmerized by that absurdly wide mouth.

Kurt sighed, thinking about his answer for a moment, "I'm turning 30 at midnight, and I'd rather not turn another year older while remaining… a-a virgin."

Sam was surprised at his answer, "And why are you still a virgin?"

"That's enough. That was the answer to your one question." He breathed in shakily, "Please leave." His composure was slowly failing, and Kurt didn't want anyone to see it, even if Sam was only a prostitute.

Obviously intrigued, Sam moved closer to him on the couch, and Kurt inched backwards until he felt the arm digging onto his back.

"You know that can be remedied, right?" He was so close that Kurt can feel his breath on his cheeks and lips, and he practically salivated. His adamant brain was cursing his traitorous body. But apparently, his body had urges that can no longer be denied.

If only Will Schuester had sent someone of moderate looks, and not some Greek God that practically oozed with clumsy charm… instead, Sam was getting Kurt to question his decision about tonight.

"Nothing can happen." Kurt stated, "I-I'm very sorry, Sam. I know you came all the way over, but really, I can't."

"And why not?"

"Because knowing that all of this is just an illusion… and…" He clamped his mouth shut, for someone who was so close-mouthed about his private life; he couldn't seem to stop himself from talking in front of this stranger.

"Illusions can come true if you let them." Sam spoke, "And from what I've read about you, you seem to have made your dreams come true."

Kurt was drugged on his words, "W…what?"

"You sold your father's business when he died, pooled all your money in coming to New York all the way from Ohio, and managed to wow the fashion world with your amazing designs." Kurt felt rather than saw the other man's eyes drop to his lips, and he licked the dry surface.

"So you did some research?" He caught his breath when Sam raised his hand and traced his jaw, his fingertips callused. They chafed his skin and Kurt was scared to realize how much he wanted to know the reason for their rough texture, did he spend his days scrubbing floors, did he play an instrument?

"Of course." His fingers traced the shell of his ear and Kurt saw his other hand set the wine glass on the table and return sweep down his arm, finally settling down on his waist.

"I-I can't." Kurt protested weakly as he came closer.

"Yes, you can." Sam murmured before his lips came down on Kurt's. 

**End of chapter 1**

**Keep the kum-ments coming!  
><strong>


	2. Chapter 2: A big mistake

**Title: Be loved for real**

**Written by:** Sano

**Pairings:** Sam/Kurt

**Rating:** R (to be safe)

**Author's note:** This is based on a novel that I've read multiple times now, and I just can't help but make a kum interpretation.

**Disclaimer: **I do not wish to own Glee. Nor will I ever afford to.

**Summary:** Kurt Hummel is still a virgin and turning 30. On a whim, he hires a prostitute for his birthday, not knowing that his rash decision might change his life forever.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 2: A big mistake<strong>

It was as if the second before Sam's lips touched Kurt's was stretched to eternity. The moment expanded and he saw, heard and felt everything around him in detail: the sound of logs crackling as they were devoured by flames in the fireplace, the distant hum of the Mamma Mia soundtrack playing in his room, the pressure of leaning against the arm of the sofa, and every crevice on Sam's ridiculously-full lips.

He held his breath when he felt soft, gentle lips press against his. His brain was beset by a rush of feeling. Lust, dismay, joy, agony… all the emotions swirled inside of him until it became too much. He opened his mouth to release his breath and the other man took unscrupulous advantage, making the kiss deeper, hotter.

Kurt felt Sam's tongue briefly touch his and his mind reeled. It had been so long since someone had touched him with a modicum of passion.

Not to say that he lacked human contact. Models often hugged him whenever he draped them in one of his many designs. Finn was fond of engulfing him in bear hugs whenever he visited. His niece, Isabelle, was fond of pinching his cheeks, while her mom, Rachel, liked walking with their arms linked.

Sam broke the kiss to lean his forehead against Kurt's, mischievous green eyes staring into hazy blue ones, their breath mingling. The hand that was on Kurt's waist went under his shirt and settled on the side of his abdomen, his callused fingers leaving trails of fire on Kurt's skin.

Trailing his lips over the bridge of Kurt's nose, Sam traced his left eyebrow with them, urging Kurt to close his eyes. He moved on to his ear and Kurt found himself clutching one of Sam's shoulders, the wealth of muscle under his fingertips becoming an embodiment of reality to his fantasy-induced mind.

Maybe it was the excitement, or the desolate feeling of spending the eve of his 30th birthday single, but Kurt suddenly threw caution to the wind and brought Sam's face to his, catching the other's lips with a passion borne of many lonely nights.

Kurt made short work of Sam's coat and attacked the buttons on the plaid button-down shirt. He only made it half-way when his hands encountered rock-hard abs and he had to tear his lips away from Sam's to gawk at the display of well-defined muscles.

"Oh my Go-I mean, that is, w-wow." The man had a body made for Playgirl!

Was it rude to drool in front of a prostitute?

Sam chuckled and grabbed one of Kurt's hands, placing it on his chest. "Just touch me." He placed a kiss on the side of Kurt's neck, his tongue darting out to taste him, and whispered, "I'm yours tonight."

Slowly, Sam's free hand trailed down his chest, his stomach, until he encountered the Hugo Boss belt that Mercedes gave to him as last year's birthday gift and quickly unbuckled and unzipped his pants.

Kurt's breath started coming out in pants, then a gasp when that warm hand brushed over his underwear-clad erection. Sam managed to tug his pants and underwear around his knees and the rush of air around his legs told Kurt that this was, in fact, real.

Sam's hand wrapped around his erection and gave it a few experimental tugs, which evoked a moan from the other man. He just had to close his eyes and it became so easy to imagine that Sam was his boyfriend, that this was their first night together, and that he didn't have to pay him an exorbitant amount of money to sleep with him.

With one hand stroking his cock, Sam's fingers started prodding the edges of his opening and the fantasy dissipated.

"Sam, w-wait." The stroking stopped and Kurt bit his lip in frustration. The image of the disheveled blond with one hand on his dick would forever be seared in his brain and he almost forgot what he was going to say.

It took a couple of deep breaths before he could speak. His voice was hoarse with passion as he said, "I'm grateful for what you've done. B-but, this has to stop." He turned his face away from Sam as he whispered, "Not like this."

Damn his romantic soul.

Kurt fully expected the other man to get up and leave, but was surprised when Sam crept closer and kissed him gently on the lips. His big lips quirked into a smile, flashing straight white teeth, and said. "I won't force you, Kurt."

"But at least let me make you feel a little better." His hand dropped near Kurt's crotch, his green eyes pointedly eyeing his erection.

_Say yes! _Kurt's brain screamed. _Make me come, make me scream!_

All he managed was a shaky nod.

Keeping his eyes glued to Sam's green ones, he drew in a shaky breath as something warm and wet engulfed him. His head fell back on the arm of the couch; no longer shy at the sounds he made, and just let Sam pleasure him.

Kurt's legs felt like jell-o as he lay on the couch, Sam thoughtful enough to grab a blanket from his room to cover him with.

He couldn't move. He wasn't sure he even wanted to. Even his brain was too exhausted to process what just happened.

He could see Sam getting dressed, and saw him comb his Bieber-like tresses into some semblance of order in the mirror. When he was done, he crouched in front of Kurt's position on the sofa, his green eyes searching the other man's.

The silence became heavy, and Kurt had no idea how to break it. What do you say to a guy who just gave you a blow job? He opened his mouth a couple if times, but no sound came out.

"Th-"

"No regrets, Kurt." Sam smiled that goofy smile of his again and raised one of Kurt's hands, and pressed a gallant kiss to the back of it.

The door closed and the clock started chiming. It was 12 o'clock.

Kurt was officially 30 years old.

"Happy birthday to me." He whispered brokenly and buried his head under the blanket.

**End of Chapter 2**

Sorry for the late update. It's been a struggle to write Glee fiction lately. And Cory Monteith's death was such a huge blow to the fandom. Sometimes, I still can't believe that he's gone.

I read my work recently and I just realized that Finn was a huge factor in a lot of my stories. He made a huge impact on both Kurt and Sam.

We love you, Cory.

Please let me know what you guys think


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